


with you, i fall down

by crownsandbirds



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Attends Shujin Academy, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Madoka Magica Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, First Dates, Kinda?, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mention of previous character death, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Pining, Puella Magi Madoka Magica References, Time Loop, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: Amamiya Ren is Goro Akechi's miracle - the worst, most painful miracle he could ask for, and the only one he wants.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 155





	with you, i fall down

**Author's Note:**

> "with you, I serve, with you, I fall down;  
> watch you breathe in, watch you breathing out;
> 
> only twenty minutes to sleep,  
> but you dream of some epiphany;  
> just one single glimpse of relief,  
> to make some sense of what you've seen."
> 
> (epiphany - taylor swift)
> 
> This is kind-of-a Madoka Magica AU, with several liberties taken and changes to the plot in order to fit it to the major occurrences of Persona 5. There is no need to have prior knowledge of Madoka to comprehend this fic.

The first day is always the same. Has been the same.

Goro Akechi gets up. He always gets up at the same time. There's no one to wake him up. He trusts solely on his own mind's ability to stir him from his fretful, restless sleep. He could wake up with the brush of a feather's tip against his lashes. People like him weren't made for languishing relaxation on top of comfortable pillows. He sleeps with one pillow, one blanket, on top of a single, thin mattress, in the middle of his one-person apartment. He gets up, and makes breakfast for one. He doesn't eat. It's a meager meal, toast and mediocre coffee. It's hard to swallow. He has been losing weight. He doesn't pay it mind. Eating, at this point in his life, is nothing more than something strictly to keep him alive. Is he alive. He wonders, sometimes, when he has enough presence of mind to wonder about anything at all other than the merciless shove of this endless miracle - unforgiving curse. 

He checks his pocket watch. It thrums and hums on the palm of his hand. He's early. He has never been in the habit of sleeping in - even before everything. 

It hasn't always been like this, the first day. Initially, the first handful of times he tried his hand at this, he attempted going back further, before  _ he _ ever knew anything, before it all even started, before the very first steps of inescapable fate. That didn't work, as nothing has worked so far.  There are a lot of irredeemable things in Goro Akechi's life. 

But he learns. He grows with his endless mistakes. He gets more powerful, but never powerful enough. He gets knowledgeable. He gets another chance. Some nights, he doesn't know what keeps moving him forward. Stubborn willpower. Rebellion. Hatred. Terror. 

Love, maybe. 

He fixes his tie around the crisp white collar of his uniform. This, also, something he learned. The first time around, he couldn't make a tie knot to save his life. Now, after losing his life more times than he can count, by his own hand or the hands of others, he can do it with his eyes closed. It's familiar, almost soothing. The type of thing that has been with him for these endless months. A specific way of moving his fingers through fabric. It's smooth, and practiced. He fits the buttons to their respective places, and straightens his blazer, and threads a comb through his hair. He tucks a golden lock behind his ear. The eyes that stare back at him from the small mirror in his bathroom are a painful shade of red, and empty like a vacant, abandoned house. He has seen too much. 

He takes his suitcase, still complete with his initial on the shiny surface. Some childish habits he has never grown out of. Sometimes he thinks that's all he has. He doesn't bother tying his hair back, or putting on his glasses instead of his contact lenses. He has done that, before. It did him no good. 

Not that anything does, not really.

He locks the door behind himself and tucks the keys inside his breast pocket. He doesn't take the bus. His memories don't strain to remind him of the way to Shujin High School. It is a path his feet have walked more times than he can count. Occasionally, he tried to attend another school, but that proved to be more tragic more quickly. Shujin it is, with the dark uniforms and the bleeding red stitches. Fitting. He thinks about  _ him _ . Previous stalking attempts showed that  _ he _ is probably receiving a stern talk-to from Sojiro Sakura, which will be immediately followed by another, slightly more violent talk-to from the principal and from Ms. Kawakami. In previous timelines, Akechi assisted him with taking the subway, with finding the school, with knowing his way around. It was unhelpful in the end, so he ceased his attempts. Akechi calls to mind the timid tilt of his head, the soft curve to his tone in order to hide the rich, commanding baritone of his voice, the glassy barrier of his glasses to mask the sharp intelligence of his grey eyes.  _ He _ 's so easy to remember. Out of all the chaos in the universe, he's the one point of stability. The steady lull of an ocean storm. It drags Akechi in. It makes him drown. 

It's a frigid morning in Kichijoji, and perhaps this should be the first indicator that things are not as they always are, but Akechi is too tired to pay it any mind or to react to it in any way aside from the instinctive hunch of his shoulders to feebly protect him from the cold wind. 

He walks on. 

-

Ren tentatively writes his name on the glass board in front of the entire class. 

It's useless to try and be discreet about his name. It's too swooping, grandiose. It twirls like red wine inside a crystal glass. Everyone who calls for him is choked by the sudden curves of the syllables. A french kiss, overwhelming and poisonous. 

People frown at him. He can feel their piercing eyes with every step that he takes. He feels naked, despite the black of his uniform.  This has been the longest morning of his life. He feels like his entire existence has been trapped in the span of this handful of hours. He cannot remember who he was before this. He cannot imagine himself ahead of this. He is born and will die in this one year, in this one murderous town. 

"Alright, Amamiya-kun," Kawakami says, and the exhaustion in her voice is tangible in the cool air, a trapped butterfly, too beaten down to escape. She tugs the long sleeves of her unflattering yellow shirt close to her wrists, as if protecting herself from something. Her skirt goes all the way down to her knees. It's meant to force you to look away. "You can sit in the empty desk behind Takamaki-san." 

He tugs his bag closer to his body and shuffles his way to the desk behind a girl with glorious blonde hair and smart blue eyes. She looks at him curiously. The shining pink gloss on her lips catches the weak drip of sunlight streaming through the windows. The second person to not stare at him with disdain since he arrived in Tokyo and was caught between its gnarling teeth. The first was the vulgar boy with a rough voice and a tendency to step into his personal space that he met on his way to school - Ryuji Sakamoto, the realest existence Ren has seen so far. 

"You probably don't know this," Takamaki whispers, and Ren startles with the suddenness of being talked to as if he's someone who merits this sort of friendly intimacy, "but you should avoid Akechi-senpai." 

Ren lifts an eyebrow in a silent inquiry. Kawakami seems too tired to notice their exchange, so Takamaki presses on. 

"He's a third-year, and the Student Council Vice-President. He's pretty well-known, and merciless. Has the worst stick up his ass. I've heard he's only looking for an excuse to get you expelled."

When Ren speaks, his voice comes out rough from lack of use. He hasn't been answering anyone for days. People don't want to hear his voice. They want to make him suffer. It took him two well-aimed punches to the face by policemen to learn that it's better to bear it all in silence. He learned how to soften his voice, how to avert his gaze, how to bow his head. Suffering taught him how to bend. He talks in a murmur, and he doesn't look in Takamaki's eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"He was asking about you earlier this morning. He talked to Sakamoto-kun right after you both arrived. I don't know what he has against you, and I'm sorry. He's kind of a sociopath. Just -" He risks a glance up. Her gaze towards him is shining with what resembles sympathy. It might be the kindest regard Ren has received in weeks. "Avoid him, okay?"

He nods, struck with the unexpected gift of human kindness. "Thank you."

She smiles, and turns back to stare at the glass board.

-

Goro Akechi is the type of existence that reshapes a reality. 

His eyes are a bleeding shade of red. Ren feels unreal. Unmade. 

"Amamiya Ren," he says, and his voice is soft, a hidden violence in the midst of the airy sighing his tone takes with the curves of Ren's name. Not a call - a consideration. A statement. 

Ren doesn't know if he's supposed to answer. He doesn't know what to say. Akechi is pinning him under the scrutiny of his bloody diamond stare, needle and paper-thin thread sewing his wings to a corkboard. 

Akechi continues to look at him. "You are the transfer student, are you not?"

Ren nods. 

"May I ask you to accompany me?" His chin tilts up. "To the student council room, that is."

There is no time for hesitation, or even for a response. Akechi turns and begins to walk, back straight and steps certain. His entire body is perfect, as if every curve and sharp turn were traced by a fine brush, with the finest ink, his movements following an invisible script, the floor underneath him a stage. It should be attractive - it feels eerie. He has no scars, no moles, no shades of dark colors to tell of pain, flaws, humanity. His voice is pleasant, but monotone, a ballerina in a music box, set to repeat the same movements endlessly.

Ren has no choice but to follow him. Something inside him feels soothed by the strange familiarity of this - as if he has done this before. He bows his head and fixes his stare at the dip between Akechi's shoulder blades, and traces his steps with his own. 

"Akechi-senpai..." Ren mumbles at last, unsure of what to do. People are staring at them, parting their mindless wave of steps to give way to Akechi's undeniable presence. Ren is trapped. 

"Call me Goro," Akechi says sharply, and doesn't bother with glancing his way. 

"Ah, yes. Goro." 

It doesn't feel like being granted intimacy. It feels like being handed a couple of cards in a poker game. A rule being put to execution, as stated. 

They continue to walk in silence. Shujin High School is still a labyrinth for Ren, and as he follows Akechi up the stairs, across hallways, he feels increasingly lost. He wouldn't be able to trace his way back to his classroom if that was required of him. He doesn't know what will be required of him; he may be walking to his certain death. Akechi's shoulders are so visibly tense under the fabric of his uniform that Ren wonders what would happen if he applied just enough pressure. If he found a singular crack in his perfect form. If he found one scar. He thinks that if he touched the tip of his little finger to one flaw in Akechi's existence, the boy would collapse beyond repair, beyond salvation. 

They stop in a long hallway, with glass windows surrounding them, as if they are suspending from thin air. 

"Akechi-senpai?" Ren inquires tentatively, and suddenly Akechi fits one foot behind the other, spins on his heels sharply with all the grace of a dancer, and turns to face Ren. He is gritting his flawless teeth. He looks on the verge of going insane. 

"Amamiya Ren," he says. The tie on his neck looks like a noose. "Do you despise the world you currently live in?" 

Ren is overcome. Honesty is stolen from his lips as if Akechi has a silver hook trapped under his tongue. "Yes," he stutters, stops. 

"Do you think there is any way it could change for the better?"

It's a mockery. Ren bites his lip. Shakes his head  _ no _ . 

"I see. If that is really the case, you wouldn't try to change the person you currently are, would you?" Akechi's eyes are empty. Vacant. Beautiful and terrifying, as a cursed crystal. "Because if you do, you will lose the very few things you hold dear."

Ren blinks. "Huh?"

"You should stay as you are, Amamiya Ren. Stay as you are, and as you always shall be."

Akechi turns again, and walks away. 

-

The faint blue glow in front of Akechi is the only warning he gets before Justine appears in front of him, cradling her list of tasks close to her chest, the iron gate behind her small figure. 

"Our master would like a word, Detective," she says, with her gentle voice. It takes Akechi two seconds to get his gun out of his pocket and shoot at her face - and it takes her less than that to expertly dodge the bullet. It lodges itself on the decrepit wall of the dead-end street. 

"Detective," she says again. He grits his teeth, and puts his gun back, and smiles at her with perfect white teeth and contempt. 

"It would be my pleasure," he purrs, and allows her to guide him inside the Velvet Room. 

The many comings and goings he has done during his life have earned him the most luxurious prison he has seen - the room glows with a soft blue light, with comfortable cushions all around, a big aquarium in which sharks and whales swim. It is beautiful. It is still a prison. The two guillotines seat peacefully opposite from him, razor-edged and glimmering. 

Caroline moves to slam her baton into his face, her doll-like face contorted in her usual scowl. "There you are, Detective! No slacking off anymore!"

"Good day to you as well, Caroline," he smiles. He wishes he could kill her. One day he is going to kill her. He is going to sever her infuriating head from her body. He can feel the coldness trickling to drip inside his guts. He will become snow crystals one day. He will melt underneath the knife-hot sunlight. He turns to the hunched-over figure sitting by the wooden desk, framed in shadows by the sea monsters trapped behind a flimsy glass wall. "Igor." 

Igor's face, forever twisted in mindless grinning, regards him with wide eyes. "Here we are again."

"Indeed," Akechi says, tracing the shape of the iron bars in front of him with the tip of his gloved finger. "Quite cold for April, is it not?" 

“And yet, your boy is made of trapped fire.”

Akechi’s smile twitches in the corners. His mind will fracture clean in half if he isn’t careful. Phantom blood runs down his temples, covers his mouth. He will choke. He will die. It would be a mercy, but he is trapped in his own desire, in the miracle he himself asked into existence. Idly, he remembers Amamiya Ren is an Aries. “Do you require anything of me,” he questions, “or am I here solely to be mocked?” 

“You are here for me to extend towards you the same deal I have been offering for a while.”

“Ah,” Akechi breathes. Familiarity. Creeping up from behind him, biting him on the soft spot on the back of his skull. He focuses on the pile of papers resting beside Igor on top of the wooden desk. He wonders what is written in them. Death reports. Apocalyptic inscriptions. Contracts. Names. What would be written beside his name? Goro Akechi, a mistake. Undesired child. Shattered boy. An error in the fabric of the universe. “Formality, as such.” 

“You can phrase it that way, if it pleases you.” 

“It is not a matter of personal taste. I pride myself in my honesty regarding things that matter. That is all.”

"And yet," Igor remarks, "you are an expert liar."

Akechi chuckles softly. "There isn't much that matters.” 

"I see," Igor says. "Girls, hand over the contract."

Justine approaches Akechi, flips through her lists. She removes a single page from between the others, and hands it over to him. Casually, he skims over the lines, and there isn't a single change from the numerous times he has been given this same contract before. Without blinking, he takes the paper between his fingertips, and rips it in half, clean and surgical. The sound of ripping fabric echoes in the Velvet Room. A shark stares at him from the oceanic aquarium. 

He lets the severed halves flutter to the ground. "You have your answer."

"You could, you know," Igor states, drumming his fingers on the desk. "It would give you respite. An escape. How many times have you done this, Detective? How many times have you watched him die? How much more can you take? How much more can your sanity take? It would be a way out. As stated in the wish you made so long ago. There is no trick, there is no trap. Give away your weapon, give away your miracle. Go back to the first timeline. Take your time to grieve in peace."

The smile continues perfect in Akechi's lips. "And die. Hand over control to you. Rot in the depths of Mementos, alongside the rest of this rotten race."

"Every action has consequences."

Akechi opens his eyes, a sliver of red amidst blue fog. He presses his shiny shoe to the pieces of paper on the floor. "This is my action. I will handle the consequences."

-

Ren enters Suguru Kamoshida's Palace at the same time Akechi is getting his make-up done for a TV special. 

Ren is running away with Ryuji Sakamoto from Shadows with murderous intent in the middle of the cognitive incorporation of lust while Akechi is pleasantly greeting Niijima Sae in the prosecutor's office, a cup of coffee in hand. 

Ren's Persona manifests, tearing apart his conscious, purring in his ear as he screams in agony, as he rips the mask off his face, as he bleeds his existence anew. Akechi kills someone for Shido.

They are so distant. The farthest they've ever been. 

Every single piece of Akechi's soul wants to be burned alive by Ren, consumed until there is nothing left of him. Ren hardly knows his name. 

-

Ren doesn't notice Akechi's presence that night until a bullet flies right past his shoulder. 

Morgana lets out a desperate scream, and throws himself to the ground just in time to avoid Akechi's murderous intent. Ren dodges, out of instinct far more than proficiency. Something in the boy triggers his long-buried survival instincts. Goro Akechi moves like death, swift and efficient and merciless. More shots, more bullets, and Morgana dodges them all, until the gloved finger presses the trigger and nothing comes out.

"Ah," he breathes out, and says nothing more. 

The weapon achieves no blood. The lack of the planned result shouldn't erase the means to achieve it - still, there is no evidence on any nearby wall or on the beaten-down asphalt to speak to what Akechi has just attempted to do.

"Why did you  _ do _ that?!" Morgana yells, loud with fury, trembling with the aftershocks of fear as he slowly hides inside Ren's school bag. He doesn't seem to be paying mind to the fact that Akechi should not, in theory, be able to understand him - but Akechi narrows his red eyes, and tucks his weapon back into his shiny suitcase. 

"It talks," he says, as if noticing a particularly distasteful fact. His upper lip is curled in displeasure. It looks beautiful in him. Bad emotions become gorgeous in his expression. "How decidedly riveting."

"You  _ shot _ me! Who even  _ are you _ ?"

Akechi grimaces. He looks close to grabbing his weapon again and giving the killing shot one more try. "Those endless screams were what directed me to you in the first place, cat, so you would do best to keep yourself quieter. You are not doing your owner any favors by yelling yourself hoarse and giving everyone in the vicinity a headache."

Ren's mind is stuttering to catch up with the sequence of unbelievable events that have happened in his life in the span of less than two full days. “Wait, can you  _ hear _ Morgana?” is the first thing he asks, interrupting the cat before he launches into another stream of loud protests - perhaps because the mysterious Student Council Vice-President appears to be taking the fact of a talking feline in graceful stride, a passing annoyance instead of the world-changing surprise it was for Ren and Ryuji. 

Akechi throws his long fringe back from his face, a charming movement in its frustrated elegance. “Why did you give it a  _ name _ ." 

"Do you have a Persona as well?" Ren inquires. 

For the first time since they met, Akechi falters. It is a matter of a handful of seconds, not even a complete minute - but something in his flawless posture shatters, something in his almighty scowl fractures, and, for a strange moment, somehow the most dizzying thing amongst all that Ren has witnessed today, his eyes look like those of a 17-year old boy, lost and confused and, above all, exhausted. Akechi looks  _ exhausted _ , as if he's on the verge of collapsing, and Ren can see what he couldn't before; maybe because it's late at night, maybe because the shadows of the darkness are dancing on their faces and bringing out what cannot be seen in the light of day, Ren can see the lingering traces of bone-deep exertion, the scars of sleepless nights, the marks left behind by unsolvable fears. 

It is only a moment. Akechi is back to his imperious scowl, as if the weakness was never there, neither was the human fragility all around him. It's such a fast metamorphosis that Ren is left doubting what he saw; but, if nothing else, today he learned to believe in what his eyes see, in what he can perceive. 

"Very well," Akechi says, adjusting his grip on the handle of his suitcase. "I do possess a Persona, as you named it. I am - familiar with the world you visited."

" _ This  _ guy?" Morgana yelps in protest. "A  _ Persona _ ?"

Akechi ignores him. "And I know enough about it to advise you to stay away from that stray that has taken up residence in your bag."

"Morgana saved us. Saved  _ me _ ."

Akechi scoffs like a blade tearing through skin. "Evidently. I thought the same thing the first time they offered me the contract. It feels like a blessing, doesn't it? Like salvation. Like a god's hand reaching down to rescue you," he recites, mocking. 

"Contract? There is no contract."

"It doesn't seem like there is. You achieve a Persona through your own blood and tears and suffering, and you use  _ your power _ to make your miracle come true. Certainly, that sounds like quite the empowering story." Akechi smiles, and it's soulless. " _ After everything that I've been through, it's only fitting. It's what I deserve. _ " He takes a step closer, and another. Morgana hisses and bares his teeth at him. Akechi pays him no mind. His red eyes are searing through Ren's existence. "They arrested you for something that wasn't your fault. They beat you, and they tortured you, and they set a sentence above your head when you were merely trying to do the right thing. Unfair. Unjust. Revolting. Achieving a Persona seemed like a ray of hope. Take back what you lost, hm? Make them pay."

He is standing close now, close enough that Ren could fit the tips of his fingers to the inner curve of his wrist, could tug his dark gloves away. He wonders if he would see hands blackened by unnamed darkness. 

"It was no god that gave you this power, Amamiya Ren," he whispers like a deadly breeze. "It was no blessing. A  _ demon _ gave you what you have, and the devil doesn't give. He  _ trades _ ."

"A devil? What will they ask of me?"

"Let's hope you never find out. For both of our sakes." 

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Stop going into Palaces. Stop stealing Treasures. Stop your little Phantom Thief play. Do not go into the Velvet Room. Live your life, leave Tokyo, never come back."

Ren's eyes, where they were timid and unassuming before, are shining golden with silent fury. The powerful, eternal fire of rebellion that has always lived inside his soul. "You saw what happened to Shiho," he says, voice hushed but not softened to its usual levels of reassuring normalcy - Akechi can almost taste the rich dominance of his natural tone on the back of his tongue. "She tried to kill herself. I cannot let this happen. Not if I can do anything to stop it. You should do something too, mr.  _ Vice-President _ . People are suffering. People are  _ dying _ .”

Once more, Akechi's expression fractures in pure pain. "It's better than you suffering," he whispers, and, somehow, Ren knows he wasn't supposed to have heard that. 

Akechi steps back immediately, as if the weight of his own words has burned his skin. He doesn't look Ren in the eye. He straightens his back, and fixes the knot in his tie as if he's knowingly securing the noose around his neck, and walks away. 

-

"Why didn't the bullets leave marks?" 

"Those were cognitive bullets, most likely."

"What the hell? But we're not in the Metaverse!"

"Irrelevant. Apparently, as soon as he lifted a weapon, we both considered him a threat, and that created a cognitive reality where the bullets were real. It is probably why no one in the neighborhood heard any of the shots."

Ren props his head up on his hand. "I think we can trust him," he states. 

Ryuji's mouth parts open in appalled shock. "Dude, he tried to kill Morgana!"

Morgana's tail twitches in irritation at the memory. "What  _ did _ he say to you before leaving, by the way? You looked rattled."

_ It's better than you suffering. _

Ren shakes his head. His eyelids flutter closed, his breath caught in his lungs with the weight of the words, with the never-healing scar of Akechi's existence, nonsensical but undeniable. "...Nothing."

-

They genuinely consider not entering a Palace again. The risks are considerable, and the energy required, enormous; they had a personal relationship with the Kamoshida scandal, their own futures being at stake, but Akechi's looming presence and eerie warning, paired with the mysterious reality of the Metaverse, were enough to make them reconsider something that they would normally dive head-on towards. For a while, being Phantom Thieves is nothing more than a feverish, intense dream they mention in hushed breaths whenever they have lunch together after school, and they maintain something that almost resembles an honest student life. Ren isn't taken to the Velvet Room again, and Akechi doesn't interact any more with him, not even granting him the grace of a shared glance in the rare occasions where they cross each other in the hallways at school, as if they've never met before, as if there has never been a point of inevitable intersection in their lives. 

Until they meet Kitagawa Yusuke. 

It is truly an accident, Ann's striking looks calling attention yet one more time, and they could put it behind themselves. But Yusuke is unrelenting and eccentric enough to stick to their minds (and so  _ pretty _ , Ren muses, beautiful like a masterpiece, as if every inch of him was drawn by hand, pretty enough to be desirable if Ren was in the habit of wanting anything for himself), and they attend the art event as an afterthought. 

Madarame Ichiryusai's Palace is what triggers everything back into place, as if it had never been twisted before. The extension of Madarame's crimes is not something any of them can overlook. As much as Akechi desires for Ren to take care of himself first, for reasons that none of them can even begin to comprehend no matter how many times the story of their cryptic first meeting is retold, Ren's altruism and tendency to put others before himself have been on the very pillar of his personality for years. It was what brought him to Tokyo in the first place, it was what first set him on his path as a Phantom Thief, and it is what nudges him into ignoring Akechi's words of doom and setting out to save this peculiar artist from the jaws of a liar. 

It is harder than their first experience was, and yet, somehow, more thrilling. More addicting. Yusuke's Awakening tugs at Ren's heart strings, does unnamed things to all of them - watching him rip his mask off, his fingernails bloody and torn apart from his anguished suffering, his screams of pain as the rebellion inside his soul takes over his psyche. Stealing Madarame's Treasure feels more important now, as if they have settled on a mission. It feels as if they have clasped hands with a mysterious extended deal from fate, and they cannot back away from it now. It is something bigger than them, and more dangerous, and, yet, it is theirs alone for the taking. There is a sense of camaraderie that spreads across all of their minds; when they spend time together, they do so as a team, as a group. 

Ren feels powerful. 

The acquisition of his Persona was a shot of adrenaline throughout his veins; this is something else entirely. People are talking about them, making assumptions, developing ideas. They are more than their school, more than themselves. 

"Doesn't it feel like we could, y'know, change the world or something?" Ryuji asks, after they are done with their celebratory hot pot.

When Ren crosses Akechi in the hallway leading to the library in one of the following mornings, there is a dark purple bruise high up his neck, left by Yusuke's curious lips, and Akechi looks at him as he would look towards a loved one being conducted towards the guillotine. With infinite resentment, longing for a life he seems to have lost or cut short, by ignorance or mistake - but Ren has never been more alive. 

-

"You look exhausted," Sae tells him, and it takes every single ounce of willpower Akechi has ever possessed to not snap at her. 

His acquaintance with Niijima Sae has become something of a blood oath throughout all the timelines, although this is a fact only he is privy to. He has been treated to conveyor belt sushi by her enough times that he has developed almost a preference for the stale taste; notably, once he watched her break her heel after round-kicking a petty thief in the face, and helped her pick a new pair of shoes while having a long conversation about the merits of the masks people make use of in society. They've had the exact same dialogues over and over again, about the precise same subjects - but there is a sort of sick, useless delight in changing one word or two, watching the slight expression changes, the delicate frowns, the curve of amusement in her lips whenever he manages to catch her unguarded. Sae is honest to a fault, competent, smart but not smart enough, a plaything for Akechi to toy with whenever he's bored and torn apart by his decisions, and he has grown to appreciate her more than he ever thought he would. There is something soothing in a person who never changes, someone who, regardless of the lifeline, is always seeking the same thing. Perhaps, he muses as he presses the palm of his hand to his rapidly aching forehead, there are more similarities between the two of them than he would willingly admit. 

It does not mean, however, that she's not painfully infuriating more often than not. 

"Oh, Sae-san," he smiles, perfect mask fluttering into place around his expression. "Do I really look so beaten?" 

They are sitting in front of each other, a tastefully and uncomfortably small table between them. This is often how they find themselves - in the courthouse, Akechi pretending to solve the murders disguised as detective cases dropped at his lap through blunt phone calls by Shido, Sae powering her way through an unjust system that works twice as hard to see her destroyed. Matching plastic cups filled with unpleasant coffee. 

"You do. It's not like you, Akechi-kun." 

He laughs like silver bells. Indeed, this is not like him. Fragility is not like him. Humanity is not like him. Weakness is not like him. He traded all of those, along with his soul, a long time ago. 

"I had a terrible night. What about you? You were almost late to our appointment this morning. It's not like you, Sae-san," he sings, and it captures a small smile from her. 

"I didn't have a pleasant night either," she confesses as she types away on her computer. "I had a minor argument with my sister and ended up sleeping in the office."

He grimaces in a mockery of sympathy. "That's never enjoyable. From what I've heard of your sister, however, I wouldn't think her to be the type to argue."

"Usually, she isn't," Sae says. "As of lately, she has been more...opinionated."

Akechi's hands tighten into fists where they are resting on top of his lap. There is too much happening too fast. The game is moving. He needs to be faster, stronger, smarter, he needs to be a thousand steps ahead, he cannot handle one more loss, he cannot afford one more failure, he cannot live with another heartbreak.

He keeps his princely smile in place. "One would consider you to be fond of  _ opinionated _ 17-year olds, considering how much time you spend around me."

"Trust me, Your Highness, it's not by choice."

He knows she means it as a joke. He does not take it as such. 

He takes the final sip of his coffee. "It never is, Sae-san."

-

  
  


Akechi grows increasingly more apathetic towards Shido the more time passes. 

The first handful of times he did this, it was hard detaching himself from his very first miracle; wanting Shido dead, wanting revenge for all the misery he went through during his life, wanting to see his father groveling on the ground and begging him for a mercy that would never be granted, as it never was to Akechi, as it never was to his mother. All of that was, for a long while, the one thing that kept him alive, the one thing that gave his existence any sort of purpose. He was alive for the same reason natural disasters existed - to create destruction, and to be extinguished soon after. 

But fulfilling his first miracle didn't save him. Fulfilling his first miracle changed nothing. His mother was dead, he was dead, Ren would die. 

Someone, a demon, granted him another. Someone asked,  _ would you change anything _ . Someone asked,  _ is there something you want. Is there something you want more. _

Goro Akechi choked out, "I just wish I'd met him earlier," and everything was remade. 

-

Ren lies to Morgana. 

He doesn't have any other choice. The fire-bright look in Akechi's eyes when he saw the hickey on Ren's neck resembled too much that of a betrayed lover, and, even without taking that into consideration, there is much Ren doesn't comprehend about him still. However, Morgana and the other Phantom Thieves have developed an ever-growing mistrust of Akechi, tugged forward by the Ace Detective's less-than-favorable public opinions on their deeds, and Ren avoids bringing up the subject whenever they are around, which means he doesn't bring up the subject to anyone in his life. The truth of the matter is that he doesn't despise Akechi nearly as much as they appear to - the truth, indeed, is that he doesn't dislike him at all. There is something razor-sharp in Shujin's prince charming, something that speaks to perilous depths, and Ren finds himself increasingly tempted to drown. Kissing Yusuke in the corners of art museums and on top of Leblanc's cushioned seats when the café is empty is a thrill, evidently, but Yusuke looks at him as one would look upon salvation personified, and - Akechi is not quite like that. 

Akechi looks at Ren as if he knows enough things about him to be able to trace his entire existence by heart and intuition alone. As if he knows every single nook and cranny to Ren's soul. He looks at Ren as one would look to their home while they step to leave it behind - with longing and comforting familiarity. 

Ren wants to see more. 

He lies to Morgana. As nosy as his talking pet cat is, he also knows how to be discreet in key moments, which Ren is eternally grateful for. All he needs is one tip about  _ I'm heading out to see Yusuke _ , and Morgana's whiskers flutter in companionable mischief, and he says something to the lines of  _ bring me something to eat _ and turns to nap on the bed, and Ren is free to roam Kichijoji, his soul thrumming with unspoken possibilities and the thrill of doing something without it being for anyone else aside from himself. 

"So?" Akechi asks, crossing his long legs underneath the table at the jazz club. They came here by his recommendation - when Ren texted him after class, stating nothing more explicit than,  _ i want to see you tonight _ , the first place that came to mind was the jazz club. Granted, there aren't many places Akechi is fond of in town; he has walked through enough streets and backstreets in his many attempts that he has grown sick of most possibilities, but this specific environment is not one that has ever ceased to be pleasant in its strange, distant familiarity. "What did you want to discuss with me?"

Ren leans forward - Akechi leans back. This is a dance too, even in their body language. A game of chess. Everything is so  _ hard _ with Akechi. Ren is addicted. "I wanted to talk."

Akechi lifts an eyebrow elegantly. "What about?"

"I have the feeling we never quite finished that conversation you brought up when you tried to kill my cat. Actually," he says, and leans forward again, cupping his chin with his hand, "you never seem agreeable to finish conversations with me."

"You always seem inclined to spend your time somewhere else."  _ With someone else _ , is the unstated sentence. Akechi drawls the words as a coy maiden would, tugging at his hook firm where it's captured Ren's focus. The thrill of having the leader of the Phantom Thieves looking at him and him alone. He wishes it would lose its novelty. He wishes one day he would be able to talk to Ren and feel nothing. 

Ren's smirk has teeth. “I have been growing inclined to make you a priority.”

Akechi's traitorous heart flutters where it was lying in cold blood before. A boy made of trapped fire, indeed, and Akechi's hands are blackened everywhere he was burnt before. “Oh?”

"You're quite the mysterious individual, Akechi-senpai." Ren's mouth moves around the worded respect with appreciation, as if he's breaking hard candy between his canines. Akechi couldn't look away from him if he tried - and this is so much worse, knowing he's just one of many who hold Amamiya Ren in the center of their universes. Not even in his devotion he's special. He is only special because of the murderous edge he's turned his adoration into. He won't go down without a fight, as he hasn't so far. 

"I'm ordinary if compared to the morally powerful leader of the organization that has been tilting Japanese society into a frenzy. Why, I am merely a rookie detective."

The tips of Ren's fingers trace the outside seam of Akechi's sleeve, slow and deliberate. Akechi steels himself so he won’t shatter in a tell-tale shiver of reaction. "While this morally powerful leader was stumbling to understand what a Persona even was, you were using cognitive bullets in the real world to kill me. I'd say there's a lot you haven't disclosed yet."

“Please, I’m an open book.”

Ren’s fingers tug at Akechi’s black glove, his nail scratching slightly at the inner curve of his wrist. “Does this mean I’m free to skim the pages?”

“You’re free to analyze them thoroughly - if you can handle it.”

Ren's eyes glint like the edge of a knife. 

A game, Akechi reminds himself uselessly. Nothing but a game. 

Why does it feel like his entire life? 

_ I should let this boy die _ , he thinks.  _ I should let both of us die.  _

"When you told me not to change who I was," Ren starts, never releasing Akechi from the merciless weapon of his gaze, "did you mean for me to refuse my awakening?"

Akechi takes a sip from his glass with his free hand; the other is still held captive by Ren's idle touch. "I did."

"And was I supposed to let Kamoshida do whatever he pleased? Madarame? Kaneshiro?"

Akechi shrugs curtly. "They weren't your responsibility."

"They are my responsibility as soon as I'm granted the power to do anything about them."

"You're too kind for your own good, Amamiya-kun. People have never been gracious to you, and you continue to extend a helping hand towards them. It's something I'll never comprehend about you."

"It's like you've known me my entire life, Akechi-senpai," Ren says, and it's meant to sound teasing, but it turns Akechi's veins into ice. 

"I have an intuition for such things, I suppose," he answers, one heartbeat too late, but Ren doesn't seem to notice, content with humming, pleased. 

"So you don't believe in helping others for the sake of helping them?"

"I believe in ascertaining justice as it's supposed to be."

"You're very distrustful."

"Maybe."

Ren's smile curls up wider. "And yet you trust me."

_ With my life, with my soul, with my entire existence. _ "What makes you so sure?"

"Because you care about me. I can see it in your eyes."

"If you want someone to worship the floor you walk upon, you have your fair share of believers who are ready to do just that at a snap of your fingers."

"That's not what I want."

"What  _ do _ you want?"

"To know. To understand."

For a moment, they simply look at each other. Mutual appreciation; bone-deep respect. 

“What did you ask for?” Ren asks at last. 

_ You.  _ “There is an adult," he says, voice airy. He has stated this same justification and lied through his teeth more times than Ren can even begin to guess. "A sickening creature. My contempt for him is the only thing that drives my justice. There is no grand reason, no better society, no lofty ideal. Nothing but a grudge. Absurd and personal, but mine.”

-

In one timeline, they were together for two years. 

It was one of Akechi’s boldest attempts - he went back in time earlier, moved into a place next to Ren’s family house in his hometown, one entire year before the incident with Shido. He told himself there were reasons for it, rationalized every step of his decision - but it was merely an indulgence. Akechi wasted an entire attempt solely for the possibility of indulging in stolen time with Ren. They studied for exams together. They bought books, and took long walks late at night. They shared a first kiss next to a faulty vending machine. They went on dates to watch bad movies in the single movie theater there and make out in the lingering darkness. Ren gave him a ring and told him they would get married in spring after high school. Akechi watched Ren cross Shido with his own eyes; watched every step of the painful process that led to his probation, went to Tokyo with him. The Phantom Thieves never knew Ren without Akechi. They were together from the start - before the start. Akechi guided Ren to Shujin on his first day; he was the one to fight alongside him in Kamoshida's Palace. He received the same rumors his boyfriend did. They stole kisses from each other in the single mattress on the attic above Leblanc. 

Akechi never became the Ace Detective. He never made a deal with Shido. He trailed his disgusting father from the shadows. He was nothing but Amamiya Ren's boyfriend, and he had never been happier in his entire life. In all the lives he had lived. 

Ren died in his arms after failing to defeat the God of Control, as he had died infinite times before. 

He died after Akechi begged him not to go, and he died after releasing his hand and smiling and winking at him and saying, "I'll meet you at home, honey."

In that reality, Akechi was promised a life beyond the hopeless repetition of everything his existence had been for the past years. He was promised an apartment in Tokyo, in Kichijoji, close to the jazz club they enjoyed going to. A place with a comfortable bed, and a nice kitchen, and shelves for their shared books. He was promised breakfast and dinner every day, even if they were repetitive, and he was promised never waking up alone, and having someone to hold him in his sleepless nights. He had two years of bliss in the arms of the one person he had ever loved, the one person he would ever love. 

It wasn't enough. It should've been enough. Akechi promised himself it would only be once - a single moment of irrational yearning, a single minute for him to lean into the one thing he wanted. Two years for him to live into the miracle he had asked for. He should've been satisfied after that - knowing he was the one to selfishly kill Ren for nothing but the fulfillment of his own desire. 

Sometimes, in the timelines after that one, Akechi felt a desperate urge to grab Ren by the shoulders and scream,  _ you promised you would meet me at home, you promised you would come back. You should be my miracle. You should be my impossible happiness. How many times do I have to do this? I can make you happy. I have tasted your laughter against my lips. How much more do I have to suffer for you?  _

He is so tired. He still treasures those finite days, those two years, the two anniversaries they had, the awful dates at Big Bang Burger, running with fingers entwined underneath heavy rain in Shibuya. Picking Ren up after his part-time jobs. Winning in pool, losing in chess. Drinking coffee made specially for him, Leblanc's counter separating them, Ren flirting with him as if he was a treasure meant to be stolen and kept safe. Dining curry. Driving him to places. Being surprised with flowers after a stressful day. Those precious hours where they were everything to each other. 

Being a normal person. Loving, and being loved in return. 

There are nights in which the memory of those days is the only thing that allows him to continue breathing enough to last until morning. 

  
  


-

They are in Hawaii when Ann raises the question no one wants to talk about. 

"You guys ever think about the wishes you made when you received your Personas?"

Ren wants to say,  _ I do, because Goro does _ , but no one ever wants to hear about that particular subject, so he stays quiet and lets his friends talk. He's been realizing lately he does a lot of that. Akechi is the one person with whom he genuinely seems to maintain a dialogue with. 

It's late at night, and hot - being close to the beach doesn't mean that the stifling warmth of the weather is lost to the sea breeze, and everyone has pushed their blankets to the side, windows open to let the air freshen up. 

"I mean, yeah," Ryuji says. "Sometimes."

Ann hums. "It all happened pretty quick, so I don't -" 

"Yeah."

"What  _ did  _ you ask for, Ryuji? Maybe  _ ask _ is a strong word, I don't know. I don't remember, like,  _ saying _ anything to anyone."

"Didn't Carmen talk to you, though?" Ren asks, if only because he recalls vividly the rich power of Arsène's voice thrumming through his mind.  _ Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to Hell itself.  _

"She  _ did _ , but -" 

"What did she talk about?"

"About Shiho...About how forgiving Kamoshida was never an option."

"Wasn't that what you asked for, then?" Ryuji points out. "Back then, you didn't know if Shiho would regain consciousness. Maybe you asked for her to be back."

"And you, Ryuji? What did Captain Kidd say?"

Ryuji scratches the back of his head. "Uh, something to the lines of, 'since you're disgraced already, why not wreck havoc'. Except, like, in that fancier way that Personas talk."

"By disgraced, did he mean -" 

"Me punching Kamoshida, him breaking my leg, destroying the track team, yeah." Ryuji takes a moment in silence, and then he barks a humorless laughter. "If Personas were meant to grant us wishes, they're not doing a crazy good job of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Shiho is going to another school, isn't she? And, sure, I can run again, but the track team won't have me."

"I thought you didn't want to go back to the team," Ren observes. 

"Man, I say that to come off as mature, but, duh, I would go back to the team if I could. I love you guys, but -"

"Yeah, I miss Shiho too." 

The tension weighs heavily on the air. 

"What did  _ you _ ask for, dude? Arsène showing up was pretty badass."

Ren hums idly, picks at a loose stitch on the blanket underneath him. "Saving you, I suppose."

"But Ren doesn't count," Ann points out. "He has a bunch of Personas. How many do you have right now?"

"No idea," Ren says. "Over a hundred."

"A  _ hundred _ ? For real?!"

"I wonder if any of those is your real Persona, though," Ann muses. "Not  _ all _ of them can be yours, right? A Persona is supposed to represent your soul, or something. You must have a special one."

"Ooh, I bet it's super strong!"

Ren blinks tiredly at the dark ceiling, and thinks back to Akechi, to his warning that has been sounding more and more like a plea the more Ren goes back to it. A trade, a contract. What will the devil ask of him? 

-

Their encounters become more frequent. Akechi talks with all the urge of a dying man, as if speaking with Ren is the sole source of oxygen he possesses in the world. He talks and he talks and he talks about  _ everything _ \- the books he's reading, the philosophers he's studied, the things he finds interesting. He speaks for hours on end, nursing cups of coffee, occasionally asking for a refill of his preferred house blend, stealing away every single drop of Ren's attention. 

There is nothing to hide anymore. Morgana made it a point to express his displeasure with Ren's new-found fascination quite vocally to anybody who would listen, and the Phantom Thieves all followed his example, with varying levels of irritation. 

Still, Ren is tired of only doing what other people want him to do, and when he goes to meet Akechi, he does it solely on his own selfish desire to bask on the other's presence. There is something between them that is dark and tangible, warm to the touch, breathing on the worst parts of themselves, a lifeforce of unnamed desires and urges. They have always shone a light on each other's innermost thoughts, those that never touch upon anyone else's ears or show themselves to anyone else's sight. There is a sick satisfaction in watching his friends' displeasure on witnessing him spend time with the boy that has essentially stated that he would like to disband them in multiple occurrences before; something of self-destruction, something of kindred souls, something of mutual disaster, something of love. 

-

"That guy from your school, the one who shows up on TV," Sojiro starts, and Ren's entire focus shifts from the dishes under his dripping wet hands to the slow-rising white smoke burning from the tip of a cigarette.

"What about him?"

"He is very fond of you, y'know. I don't know if you know this, but he waits here for hours sometimes."

Ren continues to look at the suds in the sink, but he cannot stop the smile from tracing the curve of his lips. "He might enjoy the house blend."

Sojiro stares at him. "I'm pretty sure here's something else in the house he enjoys more."

-

Ren hands over Seth, and Justine gives him an appraising look. 

The giant black dragon flies over peacefully to the small girl, and allows her to gaze upon it for a long moment as she ascertains its abilities and skills. 

"Indeed, this is a Seth with High Counter," she says, with a faint smile on her lips. "You did well, Inmate. This is the conclusion of the final request we had for you."

Ren sits down on the hard floor of his cell, legs crossed, and steels his heart. "I have a question."

Caroline scowls at him. "What, Inmate?"

"What is my true Persona?"

Something in the twins' mismatched golden eyes shifts. 

-

Akechi doesn't pick the spicy takoyaki on the day of the school festival. 

It was a mistake he only committed once. 

He doesn't let the Phantom Thieves know about Sae's casino Palace. Again, a mistake he only committed once, back when he knew nothing. They are living a reality completely separate from his, and he has learned to accept that. There is no redemption for someone like him. There isn't a single timeline where he has ever truly belonged with them. He believes in paying for unforgivable crimes with unredeemable lives, he believes in revenge, he believes in his justice and his truth. Ren is the love of his life, his soulmate and his trickster, the hook, line and sinker in his heart and soul; but not his keeper. Ren is unblemished hope for a world that never deserved him, but Akechi has never fooled himself in attempting to be so. 

In the end, he doesn't care about justice. He never did. It's not something people like him get to experience. 

  
  


-

Both of them have nightmares about the interrogation room. 

Ren doesn’t have enough memories to comprehend it yet - but the dream is painfully vivid, reliving inside his mind all the agonizing sensations of that day. Feeling abandoned, feeling alone, his head foggy and his mind destroyed, broken bones and bruises and  _ hurt _ . Niijima Sae asking him questions he doesn’t want to answer, his sharp tongue cutting through her mindless accusations and demands for clarity. The desperation-inducing knowledge that he’s forgetting something, something essential, something that will decide whether he’ll walk out alive or rot inside this place. The cuffs dig into his abused wrists, blood pools inside his mouth, and he is  _ alone _ . 

That is not what Akechi dreams about. 

He dreams about seeing himself getting ready for the day. There’s something uncanny in the familiarity of the movements required for him to look presentable; the weight of the wooden comb in his palm, the seams of his uniform jacket, the knot of his tie and of his shoelaces. A spray of perfume behind his ears, under his jaw, in the inner curve of his wrists. The fit of his fingers around the handle of his suitcase. The rhythmic pacing of his steps. He takes the subway, and he goes down the secret stairs that lead to the interrogation room. He watches himself, sees the manic smile as the gun is pressed to Ren's forehead, as the trigger is pulled. The muffled sound of the killing shot. The wide-eyed dead gaze, the blood pooling on the metal table. The last brush of their hands together, fitting the gun to Ren's fingers, almost tenderly. 

_ Case closed _ , his voice says, vicious.  _ This is how your 'justice' ends.  _

He wakes up with a scream trapped in his throat. He would cry, if he knew how to. As it is, he shakes under his blankets, alone and terrified and  _ guilty _ . 

-

Their final date is in Mementos. 

Akechi has been in a terrible mood all day. His health is a fragile thing - enough days spent in lonely apartments, his mother in the psychiatric ward after another failed suicide attempt, himself an undesired, uncared for child, with dangerous red eyes, but who still felt hunger and cold and pain. He almost died of pneumonia, but he didn't. He almost died of hypothermia, but he didn't. He almost died of many things. His body can hardly sustain him anymore, but he's too stubborn to die. Still, he continues to pay the price for everything he went through, and a single sleepless night is enough to make him sick.

He wakes up with a sore throat and a killing headache and a thorough inability to be polite, the sharper edges of his true personality bleeding in to taint his perfect Detective Prince mask. He cancels his professional appointments for the day. He cannot risk attending those. In a few other realities, he cared little for keeping his public image, eager to save Ren, mindless of what was happening in the world around them - and he paid dearly for that slip-up. People were quick to catch up with the instability of his moods and the violence of his deeds, and Shido clipped his wings fast. He gets more leeway of action if he plays along this game's rules, and, more importantly and essentially, he gets more time. Time is the one thing Akechi never runs out of, even when he's run out of hope, of purpose, of meaning, of everything else, and yet it is also the one thing that always tricks him and trips him up. 

Still, he doesn't cancel his meeting with Ren. They are running out of the few stolen moments they can afford, even if he is the only one who knows that for a fact. He spends the day inside his small apartment, and he doesn't do much. Sometimes, he feels like a wind-up doll. Twisted into motion by strange hands of fate, set to perform rituals and tasks and movements, left to fall when the string has run out, when the song has ceased to play. This is one of such days; it's difficult to mind his homework or his detective duties or his planned murders when he knows the end of the world draws near, and his afternoon is spent washing dishes that are already clean and rearranging the books on his shelves and listening to unremarkable classical music. There are days in which not even his anger, regardless of the ocean of it he possesses in his soul, can force its way past his exhaustion. 

Ren knows, somehow, with his uncanny intuition - and when they meet in the underground walkway in Shibuya, there is a steaming plastic cup of coffee in his hands, and a knowing smile on his perfect lips. 

"I'm impressed you made some time to see me despite the amount of wonderful friends you have," Akechi says amusedly as he sips from the cup. His favorite. 

Ren scratches the back of his neck and leans in, speaking in a lower voice, "Being honest, I was slightly tired of listening to everyone's problems."

"Ah," Akechi smiles slyly. "So even the upstanding leader of the Phantom Thieves behaves like a human being sometimes."

"I suppose there is only so much you can handle before needing a break."

"I  _ suppose _ ," Akechi drawls, and he can witness Ren's mouth curving up in the corners, his sharp eyes glinting with dangerous intelligence. This side of Amamiya Ren that has always belonged solely to Goro Akechi. 

Perhaps that is why Akechi summons Loki instead of Robin Hood. Perhaps he wants to see if Ren will cower in fear, or glare in disgust at the innate personification of all the darkest, most distorted parts of Akechi's mind. Perhaps this is his final attempt at stepping back, at convincing himself that he can let go, that Ren should be left alone to live his final days with people he genuinely cares about. That Ren is not the salvation Akechi has been tearing himself apart to reach all these endless months, all these grey mornings. 

Against all odds, Ren takes careful steps towards him, and reaches up to cradle Loki's feral face in his hand. "He likes me," he states, naturally, as if this is a known fact and not a world-shattering declaration. 

"How do you even  _ know _ that?"

"I know. I can feel it."

When Ren turns to look at Akechi, the tip of his finger wound around one of Loki's long braids, Akechi is looking at him as if he has remade the universe. 

-

"I have a special request."

"We hear."

"I would like to challenge you."

"With what purpose, Detective?"

"I want to read Amamiya Ren's compendium as registered in Justine's list."

-

Akechi doesn't wait after Okumura has died. He has waited in past timelines, and he failed in all of them. The compendium is all but complete. 

_ This is my fault _ , he thinks as Loki creates a massacre in a yacht floating above the broken remnants of Japan.  _ This is my fault. It's because I cannot give up on him.  _

He doesn't feel guilt. What a murderous miracle, he wonders. All of this for a boy's love.

Masayoshi Shido's murder is swift and dealt with quickly. Akechi doesn't relish on it as he watches the ship sinking to the bottom of the dark ocean, red with blood. Shido left his mind endless timelines ago. 

The popularity of the Phantom Thieves plummets to the ground alongside with the general public's belief in a better future. 

Shido's death is the fastest, most sure-fire trigger for it, Akechi has learned through a great many trial-and-error. Give society something to believe in, and then rip it from their desperate hands. Yaldabaoth will remain motionless until the people's necessity to be controlled spikes to dangerous levels, and Akechi needs to  _ force _ him into movement. He needs to kill the god of this damned world before the Phantom Thieves develop awareness of it.

If he himself dies in the process, it's only what he deserves, what he has brought upon himself. 

Goro Akechi lives and dies and kills for Amamiya Ren, and for him alone. 

-

When both Caroline and Justine are murdered in the twin guillotines, Lavenza appears in a swirl of cold breeze and soft blue and sharp golden. She blinks up at him. 

"You know what this means, Trickster," she says, somehow sounding like both her predecessors at the same time. "You know what you must do to end this."

"Will this save them?" he inquires.  _ Will this save him? _

"Yes, if you pay the price."

"Anything," Ren says. 

"Goro Akechi has toyed with this reality's time for too long. The power contained in his weapon is remarkable. It is difficult to say what grants him enough energy to continue on his path. It will be hard to take him away from it."

"What has he done?"

Lavenza traces the golden letters on the cover of her large book. "Goro Akechi signed a contract. The first contract he signed, albeit unaware, was to acquire a Persona, with the goal of inflicting justice upon Masayoshi Shido and ascertaining revenge after a lifetime of neglect." 

"The first…?"

"He signed another contract, after the events in the first timeline were concluded. In that first reality, after he succeeded in murdering his father, you perished after your attempt to defeat Yaldabaoth. It was offered to him quite the rare opportunity - to acquire another Persona. He made one more wish, asking for one more 'miracle', as he puts it: to be able to meet you earlier in both of your lives, to be able to go back as many times as needed to save your life.

"The attempts, so far, have all been fruitless. Circumstances are erratic in such travels. Once, he died in Masayoshi Shido's Palace, before you even fought the God of Control. In another moment, he personally asked for you to end his life after you were all trapped in Takuto Maruki's Palace. One time, he was murdered by his father himself, long before he ever met you. I cannot tell you how many attempts have been made; only that they are numerous, and varied. 

"He gets more powerful the more he repeats the same year; he gets stronger, his Personas achieve new levels, new skills. His knowledge of the Velvet Room, of the workings of this world, is perhaps the highest a human being can reach. He is not a Wild Card to quite the same extent as you are, but he is a force to be reckoned with. 

"Still, the more his own power grew, so did your own. You have nearly completed the compendium of all the Personas registered; you created a blood oath with all of your confidants, all of your contractors. The more Goro Akechi strained to ensure that you would never have to fight against Yaldabaoth, the more he created a version of you that is the only one capable of winning such a challenge. He unknowingly handmade  _ you _ into the perfect Trickster."

Ren's heart is straining in his chest even as he smirks. "I suppose it falls to me, then." 

"Only if you so desire. You have never had the obligation to save anyone, Amamiya Ren. Your decisions are yours to make, and the consequences are yours to handle."

"He has already left to defeat this God, hasn't he?" 

Lavenza nods solemnly. "He challenged both my predecessors with the objective of looking into your compendium. There was only one Persona left for you to complete it - he considered that to mean he was running out of time. Hence, the murder of Masayoshi Shido, in order to trigger society into the depths of despair without their hope to be placed either on him or on the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Goro Akechi has become quite skilled after all these years."

"But not enough."

"No, not enough. You're the only one who's enough, Trickster. Only you can channel the ultimate power and restore humanity from its ruin. But it will take everything you have. You will lose your human form. No mortal body can sustain such power and come away unscathed."

"Alright," he says, something inside his mind shifting into place. "What  _ is _ my true Persona?"

Lavenza's mouth tugs in a knowing smile. "To defeat God, one needs Satan."

-

They find him bloody and battered and broken, on the very peak of the apocalyptic scene that Tokyo has become. 

"Get out of here, you fools," he spits. His shattered mask drips with red. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Goro, you'll never be able to defeat it alone," Ren says, in an almost pleading voice. 

Akechi laughs like a mad man, loud and broken. They are all hanging on the broken precipice of what once was Shibuya, blood pouring like rain around them, gigantic bones protruding from the ground. The sharp edges of Loki cut into Akechi's skin, and he's so weak, and he's almost dying, again, like every single time before this. Once more, he's not strong enough, he's not  _ enough _ . His mind is splitting into a thousand incoherent pieces. "Teammates? Friends? To hell with that! I was the one who died for you, Amamiya Ren! I rewrote the goddamn fabric of reality to keep you safe! Your little ragtag group hasn't been with you for even a fraction of the time I spent tearing the world apart to keep you alive! I died  _ so many times _ , I killed so many people, all for  _ you _ ! Everything I did, I did for  _ your sake _ !"

He collapses back to the ground, arms too weak to sustain his broken body, and words continue to pour out of his mouth in much the same manner as the blood trickles from his multiple wounds. "I haven't lived for myself since I was born. It was all for you. And this is just one more failure. One in the middle of, god, a hundred. More. A thousand. I don't know. You're going to die in front of me, and I'll reset everything again. Because you're my miracle, Joker. The worst, most painful, agonizing miracle I could have asked for, and the only one I want."

The Phantom Thieves look at him, and he can vaguely distinguish their voices against the claims of the mob underneath them, but the entirety of his hazy attention is set to the powerful determination written in every line of Ren's - of  _ Joker's _ \- handsome face. 

"I just love you so much," Akechi chokes out, and suddenly he's crying, the world is ending and he is dying and he cannot stop crying, he has never wept so hard in his entire life, his tears dripping hot on the ground. "I love you so  _ much _ and I don't know what to do -"

Ren kneels down in front of him, and cups his face in a red-gloved hand; when he presses a hard kiss to Akechi's lips, it is as if a new universe has been reborn in between their mouths. "You're going to stay here," Ren says, "and you're going to let go."

Akechi blinks, the tears in his eyes making his sight blurry. Everything hurts so  _ much _ . "What?"

Ren turns from him and orders, "Someone find him a Soma!", and kisses Akechi one last time before muttering, "I know what you've done. I know what you've been doing. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize. I'm going to end this."

Akechi's eyes widen in terror as he wraps a hand with vicious force around Ren's wrist. "No," he whimpers, the word swirling in abject terror. 

"Goro. Let go."

The claws of the black hands dig into Ren's skin, but he is unyielding, and Akechi is so  _ weak _ . His mind is exploding in desperation, his thoughts scattered to the hot wind, to the dry air. "No, please, please don't go, not again, please -"

In Ren's clear grey eyes, there are no empty promises of impossible returns. There is only the strength of a man who knows what he must do. The strength of a man who is better than Akechi could ever hope to be. "It's my turn to save you."

Ren turns his back on him, and walks away, and Akechi can only hear his voice, rich and clear and loud, calling for  _ Satanael! _

The world burns white, and Goro Akechi doesn't die. 

-

It is truly the only thing he can do. 

He pushes himself up on useless legs, on broken knees, blood spilling around him. The shards of his destroyed pocket watch dig into the fragile skin of his thighs. He walks. 

Ren is unmaking himself into diamonds, his figure slowly shattering, Satanael's wings unfurling from his back as if the Persona has melted into his soul, becoming one with his existence. When he sees Akechi, a blissful smile graces his lips. 

"It was the only way, Goro. You can live in peace, now."

Akechi falls in his arms, and relishes on a brief moment of pure happiness where he can feel Ren's warm breath against his lips, where he can pretend they are reaching towards a brighter future, a better world, where he can pretend he's ready to breathe, ready to live on, ready to let go - and then he snarls, and something dark curls around him, unrelenting and vicious, and he whispers, "There will never be peace for me. Neither for you."

When he rips Ren away from his Persona, it takes every ounce of strength he possesses in his dying body. 

It is painful, the very picture of agony. Ren bleeds, and screams in despair, and the Phantom Thieves are yelling, and Ren's tears of horror are falling on top of Akechi's face, trailing down his cheekbones - and Akechi doesn't release him. When Ren claws at his chest, his neck, rips out clumps of his hair, wails at him, Akechi only holds him all the tighter, all the more insanely. This is the end of all things. 

"This part of you belongs to me and to me alone, Amamiya Ren," he grits out. "I'm not letting you go."

Satanael is torn, and flies away into the dark sky, colors against the red sun; but Ren is breathing desperation against Akechi's chest, and they are collapsed on the hard ground, and there are enormous gashes on Ren's back, as if his wings were ripped apart from him. Their bloods mix together, a masterpiece of suffering, eternities in the making. 

-

"Why did you do that?" Ren asks at last, when he has awakened from his drug-induced coma at the expert hands of the Yongen-Jaya doctor. 

It's only the two of them in the darkness of his attic room. Cramped, and uncomfortable - ever since what happened, Akechi's right leg has been less than functional, forcing him to lean his weight against a cane or use a wheelchair on worse days, and his ears were more damaged than he'd feared. He’s lost sight in one of his eyes from one of Yaldabaoth’s bullets, and the long gashing scar on his cheek slashes his previously flawless face. Ren's back is mauled beyond repair, a pair of long, dark scars shaped like the remnant of two wings covering the span of his shoulder blades down to the small curve at the end of his spine. There is nothing beautiful about their pain, or their regrets, or their wounds, but it is what they are, and that is how they love each other. 

The consequences of Akechi's final decision were more than any of them were prepared to handle. One single boy and his manic love, enough to slash a tear at the fabric of humanity's new found hope. Mementos wasn't destoyed, not completely, and neither was Yaldabaoth - ripping Ren apart from Satanael meant stealing away a fraction of his power, one last act of thievery. Enough to set the balance of the world in a precarious equilibrium of freedom and chains, desire and hope. One single boy, and once more happiness is a perilous journey, not a granted fact. Goro Akechi's final act of rebellion: stealing his own treasure away from the world, where it can only be his. It was unexpected, and impossible to predict, and, yet, as Akechi said,  _ the only thing I would ever do _ . The last mission of the Phantom Thieves is incomplete, and nothing will be able to finish it for good. Life goes on, messy and jagged at the edges. 

And still, they live on. 

Akechi moves painful-slow to sit next to Ren's head on the thin mattress, and threads his fingers through his hair idly. They've shared enough that physical touches seem natural, inconsequential, even. Akechi has the scars from where Ren clawed at him bloody - on his chest, his shoulders, his neck. If he looks closely enough, he can see the invisible brand of fire on Ren's lips, left behind by his poison. The ultimate betrayal. 

"Because I love you," he answers. 

This is how Akechi knows his love for Ren: in dying and killing, in treason, in the air that fills his lungs, day after stubborn day, in his inability to let go. Every morning he wakes up when he was supposed to be dead. Fate will have to pry Amamiya Ren from Goro Akechi's greedy, relentless grip - and it has failed on every single occurrence so far. Someone, be it god or demon, gave him his life's purpose in the shape of a boy, and Akechi keeps what's his. 

"You're a selfish bastard," Ren says.

"So I'm told."

"You said it yourself, that you wouldn't live your life on anyone's terms but yours."

Akechi nods. "I did. But my justice stopped holding up after I watched you die in front of me for the twentieth time. You're entire timelines too late to appeal to my empathy."

"Do you know how many people you might have doomed to suffering? To pain? To death?"

"There is not a single inch of me that cares about those people. I've only ever cared about you. I've only ever loved you. I was ready to damn the world if that's what it took. I was ready to sacrifice everything."

Ren buries his face further on the pillow, his eye glaring daggers at Akechi. "Is this what your love for me means?"

"This is what it's always meant, Ren."

Ren pushes himself up on his elbows, and grits his teeth when the movement drags hurt at the edges of his scars, but his gaze is fire, and Akechi lives to burn under it. "I will never forgive you."

"I hope you don't."

When he leans forward and presses their mouths together, Ren's lips are soft and trembling under his, and he can taste blood on the back of his tongue. 


End file.
